


press one to procrastinate

by mindshelter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 17:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20568254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindshelter/pseuds/mindshelter
Summary: Tony pressesAcceptand tries to school his embarrassing-ass beam into something less giddy as the call connects.Peter’s entire grainy face fills the screen, staying silent for a few moments to let the choppy signal smooth out. In lieu of greeting, the younger man says, “One like and I will drop intro to operating systems.”“Peter, this is a verbal conversation.”





	press one to procrastinate

**Author's Note:**

> hi have this fic: a dumb

Tony Stark is bored. Semi-retirement is boring.

Sure, his days are still eventful: he’s in his late fifties now, still somehow working alongside SHIELD and keeping a watchful eye over the Avengers initiative. Something tells him that he would have caved and dipped a toe back in anyway because he’s nosy like that and no longer bogged down by tragedy for the first time in years, but the process was sped _way_ up when he found out that Nick Fury, resident ass, decided to ruin _his_ kid’s summer vacation.

(“What’s up, kiddo? Hope you’re not having so much fun that you can’t spare me a few moments to chat – how’s Paris? You’re there now, right? Convinced Michelle to go up the Eiffel Tower with you?”

An awkward laugh from Peter’s end, muffled by the static of a long-distance phone connection. “Uh.”

“What does ‘uh’ mean? You’re either in Paris or not in Paris.”

“I’m in… the Czech Republic?”

What. “Come again?”

“I’m in Prague, Tony,” Peter said, sounding suspiciously resigned. Immediately, Tony recalled the night of May’s fundraiser for one of Queens’ homeless shelters, with their own Spider-man as a special guest. He had remained backstage the whole time, not wanting to steal the spotlight and simply waiting for the event to end so he could join the Parkers for a late dinner.

When Fury’s number lit up Peter’s phone, Tony had been too caught up laughing when his kid hit decline without missing a beat to realize the implications.

“What I think is happening better not be happening,” Tony replied, “because if it is happening, I will actually flip shit.”

And thus Tony was involved with SHIELD business again.

Even Pepper found it a pretty sound choice – who _didn’t_ think the kid needed a fucking break?

Oh, right; Nick Fury.

Dick.

Lo and behold: this Mysterio character, a late 30s man with blond hair and a gentle disposition was actually Quentin Beck with a facial prosthetic, wig and a whole big bag of lies who thought Peter would be an easy target because he’s a) _sixteen_ and b) freshly traumatized and still very, very tired thanks to Thanos.

However Beck managed to get ahold of the few Stark drones he had, Tony beats himself up for it for a while. Peter's strange spider tingle was vital to dismantling the whole operation, but he loses time for some well-deserved rest in the process.)

Years later, Tony's largely hands-off: Peter has, in a cosmic display of spite, miraculously reached adulthood alive to both his and May's shock and delight. Their baby is kicking ass left and right – with more experience under his belt, Peter’s undoubtedly one of the more dangerous superheroes out there, albeit part-time until he graduates from college.

So yeah. Peter doesn’t need helicoptering because Tony can proudly admit that his boy is very capable. Sort of responsible, even, and limits drinking to his friends' apartment parties.

The slight issue is that Peter’s all the way over at MIT, and life is always a little more subdued without him around.

To ice tonight's lonely, half-empty nest cake, Morgan’s away for a sleepover because _our daughter’s ten, Tony, this is something eleven-year-olds do – she’ll be fine_, and Pepper’s occupied with meeting executives across the international date line via video calling.

Pepper may be about 70% of his impulse control, but Tony reminds himself that Peter is in the midst of finals season, should ideally be left alone, and resists the compulsion to call.

The kid clearly has other ideas.

His phone comes to life, vibrating on the coffee table.

Peter’s contact photo is a low-quality picture of him mid-sneeze. Morgan is halfway in the frame, a blur from flinching back from her brother’s sudden, violent jolt.

Tony presses _Accept_ and tries to school his embarrassing-ass beam into something less giddy as the call connects.

Peter’s entire grainy face fills the screen, staying silent for a few moments to let the choppy signal smooth out. In lieu of greeting, the younger man says, “_One like and I will drop intro to operating systems_.”

“Peter, this is a verbal conversation.”

The kid’s joking, obviously; the deadline to drop courses was a good two months ago, and Peter loves a challenge and loves what he's doing. He’s just one for theatrics sometimes, though Tony has _no_ idea where he got that from.

“_One like - one! - and I will hurl myself in front of a bus on campus and go through the rest of my degree for free.”_

“I’m paying your tuition and you getting hit by a shuttle on campus, which go twenty-five at most, is the normal person equivalent of walking into a door.”

Peter scowls, angling his face such that Tony has an unnecessary view of his nostrils. He’s so close to the lens that the screen distorts his face.

“_I cannot believe you_,” Peter says, brows furrowed. “_This is my villain origin story, you hear me? Tuna Salad won't enable of my self-destructive urges and for that alone he must perish by my hand._”

Tony’s lost the fight against the happiness bubbling inside his gut and to head up his throat. His face splits into a toothy grin and he barks a laugh. Peter grins back, eyes crinkling while his front teeth jut out a little.

Christ, he misses this kid. Winter break can’t come sooner.

Despite everything he’s been through, Tony is consistently amazed at how… high-spirited Peter is – through witnessing some of the worst evils humanity can procure and all the bullshit that his identity going public has put him through. Peter lets sorrow and rage and hate run through him when it needs to happen but is otherwise wise enough allow it to pass instead of clinging on to the headrush of pain. He lets the ones he loves in – he lets Tony be there for him, and the older man is infinitely grateful for the honor.

“Hi, kiddo.”

“_Hi, Tony_.”

Their video chats are normally in Peter’s dorm now that his newfound upperclassman privilege helped land him a single on campus, complete with a decent kitchen and bathroom. Peter had gotten a shared room his freshman year. Sean was pretty cool and chill up until the point Peter started getting sexiled every other night.

(“Oh my goddamn God,” Peter had said, swinging around Boston to occupy himself with a dose of petty crime, “I just wanted to study for my midterms. I’ve got enough on my plate; is God not entertained?”

Tony heard the faint shout of a mugger getting socked in the jaw and the signature _thwip!_ of the webshooters. The whole time, Peter continued to complain about how inconsiderate Sean is.

"It's my room, too; why should I have to knock?" Peter’s voice cracked with his next words. “Like, at least use _your own _bed –”)

Tony’s pretty glad that he got Rhodey as a roommate. Beyond the fact that Rhodey is an invaluable lifelong friendship, teenage Tony never had to get an eyeful when he’d just wanted to go back to his own room for a hard-earned nap and then do his pre-readings for Topics in Electromagnetism II.

Peter’s fully reaping the benefits of solitude now: his calls are roughly frequent thanks to the added layer of privacy. It's good to see his ugly mug more.

“So, studying hard for exams, huh?”

A groan. “_It’s boring. Harley said the sample papers they put up online are, like, nothing close to the final he actually wrote_.” Peter sags down his chair like a limp, deflated balloon, one arm holding his phone up so he’s still face-to-face with the screen.

“That can be a good or bad thing.”

“_Definitely bad.”_

“My condolences, then.”

Peter sticks out his tongue. Tony rolls his eyes.

The kid does look kind of frazzled – Tony guesses that Peter had a few coffees too many despite his sensitivity to caffeine in order to get through ridiculous amounts of material. Genius or not, work is work. Peter needs to realize he won’t die even if he gives up on an all-nighter.

“Been sleeping enough? No excessive Spider-man-ing?” Or, God forbid SHIELD try to grab Peter for a mission during the busiest time of the semester. Peter had assisted in this crazy carfentanyl bust in the second half of his first year, and while he had done a great job, May wasn’t too pleased that literally half his exams had to be deferred.

If there was any upside to Peter being known as Spider-man, it's that MIT admin are always understanding of Peter Parker's more... extraordinary circumstances.

Peter scoffs. “_Yeah, mom_.”

“Eating well?”

Peter’s eyes look to the corner of the room as if considering the question. “_I had a fruit this morning. An entire orange_.”

It’s college, and sophomore year, no less. Tony sighs inwardly. That’s as good as it gets, he supposes.

He lets it go, and Peter spends the next ten minutes or so venting about what units he’s most concerned about, how he was never able to go to the lecturer’s office hours anyway because it conflicts with a lab period, and that he’s found the perfect place to buy grilled cheeses for dirt cheap. In turn, Tony offers a retelling of Morgan’s latest elementary school drama.

Peter nods along as the story progresses, looking kind of proud. “_Well, not to condone violence at a young age or anything_,” he says, “_but it seems like the other guy had it coming_.”

The conversation lasts forty minutes. It’s forty minutes of Tony snorting at Peter’s dumb jokes and watching the kid make goofy-ass faces at the camera. Peter mentions how eager he is for the semester to just be over. He misses MJ and Ned. He misses May.

“_I miss you_,” Peter says like it's a confession, even though both of them know it. His expression is dejected, wistful.

Tony’s gaze softens. “I miss you too, Spidey. You’ll be home before you know it.” He clears his throat. “Now go back to studying or I’ll block your number.”

His kid’s face scrunches up, some of the gloom melting away to betray a faint grin.

“_Okay_,” he says. “_Goodnight; I love you_.”

“I love you too.”

Peter gives a final wave and vanishes from the screen. Tony blows out a long exhale, suddenly hit by the force of being alone again. His immediate surroundings begin to manifest around him: he’s in the living room of his home, a wooden house by a private lake. His seat on the couch is warm, the clock propped on the wall is ticking dutifully, and there’s a cooled, forgotten cup of tea and its coaster on the coffee table – definitely Pepper’s.

Tony’s used to big and grand; it’s what he grew up with. From day one it was his parents’ mansion, his luxurious place in Malibu, the spacious floors of his Manhattan penthouse with tall ceilings and sharp angles.

When Morgan was born and he moved to the lake house with Pepper – tinier and infinitely cozier, it still felt too big. It felt like something was missing and for years Tony refused to address it.

Whatever it was, it stopped bothering him when Peter returned. Even if Tony couldn’t see him, there was the shuffle of the kid’s footsteps, his chatterbox voice in the midst of conversation, his messy habits like leaving unfolded clothes on the floor.

Tony leans back against the cushions. He can’t wait for winter break.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for dropping in : )


End file.
